


Got your back

by Soulreciever



Series: Got your back [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, I'm still sad that I couldn't get Johnson in somehow., M/M, Mostly Canon Complient, basically I just wanted to write supportive coach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulreciever/pseuds/Soulreciever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He counts the days until he can see Eric again, promises himself this time that he'll tell his boy everything, that he'll risk a little anger for the hope of making his boy see that he's in his corner. </p><p>That, no matter how it has seemed, he's always been in his corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got your back

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, yeh, I'm still newish to the fandom so I'm sorry if the voices are off also I'm a Brit so extra sorry for any brit slang that sneaks in!!

He's surrounded for so long by so many people who simply spurt forth toxic vitriol as though it's gospel truth that, for far, far, too long, he can't see the words for the poison that they are. 

He grows, finds an impossibly perfect woman who, likely divine intervention, agrees to be his wife and, eventually, Eric is born. 

He loves his boy something fierce and it's tempting to coddle him as he grows, to give to every whim all for the prize of a smile upon that tiny face but, of course, that's not his place.

His place is making sure the boy is tough and strong and prepared to take on the pressures of the world, just as his father had done for him.

So he steps back just a little and lets Suzanne handle the softer things, tells himself over and over that one day Eric will be thankful for a firmer hand and swallows down the hurt that comes the day he stops being 'daddy' and starts, instead, being 'sir'.

The more he pushes the further his boy drifts until, eventually, all they have left is a common sense of humour and the few hours of football practice together every weekend that, despite fervent effort on both sides, are clearly not Eric's idea of fun. 

It's the first he ever questions his upbringing, the first he starts rolling the idea about in his head that there has to be a better way and so when, a few days later, Suzanne suggests that perhaps Eric might be suited to another sport better, he doesn't resist even a little, tells her "whatever you think is best, sweetheart," as sincerely as possible.

A week later Eric begins figure skating and, a month after that, his father phones to suggest that it isn't the sort of sport a Bittle should be playing and that maybe he needed to step in before any more shame is brought on the family. 

Even the notion that his boy, his beautiful, intelligent, boy, could be in any way shameful makes his blood boil and yet still there'd been a voice somewhere in the back of his head telling him that his father is right, that no self respecting man would let his son go spinning about in sparkly skin tight spandex. To his ever ending shame, that day, the voice wins and he tells Suzanne that he won't be coming to any more practices. 

It's the first and last time he ever truly disappoints his wife. 

The world turns, his boy starts winning trophies, besting his mama at the local baking contests and smiling easier than he had in what felt a lifetime. 

The world turns, he stops taking his father's phone calls, starts talking to people with a more open view of the world and expanding his horizons a little more each day. 

The world turns, Suzanne jostles him awake at midnight to tell him they need to go pick their boy up, Eric looks at him from under the curve of his mama's arm as though he's waiting for him to say he'd been asking for this and, when at last they get back to the house, he puts in for the next available transfer out. 

It's that look, the understanding that all he's actually taught his boy is to be ashamed of who he is, to believe that he'll never measure up in his eyes, that proves the last push he needs to accept just how poisonous his upbringing had been. 

He wants, more than anything after that, to tell Eric how sorry he is, that he's always known how free and happy he is on the ice and that, though he might not be the football player he'd hoped for, he's still so, so, proud. There's something now in his boys face that stifles the confession, a weight of dark understanding that says, clearer than any words, that, for now, sentiment like that is going to cut rather than heal. 

There's a world of difference between thinking a thing and committing it to words, though, so he tells Suzanne instead, talks and talks about not only this but everything that surrounds it, confesses, at last, that he's terrified that his ignorance has wounded their boy past a point of healing. 

She's honest, his beloved and she doesn't mince her words for the sake of his feelings, tells him sharp and confident how deep the cuts run, how sometimes she sees their boy when he thinks no one is watching and it's like all the life has gone from him, that he's told her already that he was giving up the figure skating once they moved and smiling sweet and expectant had asked if she thought hockey would fit better, if she thought he'd think him of worth if he was playing a mans game. Then, taking his hand into hers, she'd told him that she still had hope, that though she was scared for their boy it wasn't because she thought him pushed past a point where living felt anything other than easy, that for all that Eric felt the distance between them he did still understand himself loved by **both** of his parents.

"Still, you're right, he's not as he was and its starting to feel like getting him away from this State is the only way of changing that back again." 

Of course he's felt the truth of that for a while, has several pamphlets for Universities far, far, from Georgia hidden away amongst the boxes piled still in the garage and yet hearing it makes him feel again that he could have done more. That somehow he alone could have bled out the poison that existed, not only in their little corner of America, but the entire world and so ensure their boy would never have to feel shame at being himself.

Of course Suzanne sees that, kisses him soft and sweet before responding,  
"You can't fight the world for him, sweetheart and, honestly, I don't think he'd thank you for it even if it was possible, Dicky's about as stubborn as you when it comes to taking help, after all." That last is an old, fond, tease and it's got him smiling despite himself which, he knows had been her intent with it in the first place and, pulling her tight to him he remarks, 

"Then we do what you always do when I get into my head, sweetheart and help in such a way that he thinks he's helping himself." 

Her laughter, just as heart-stoppingly beautiful now as it had been the first he'd ever heard it, blows away the last of this particular dark cloud and he allows himself to indulge a little the hope that things will be better. 

Eric takes surprisingly well to hockey which, for all that he's happy that the choice had worked out, means that suddenly his boy is more out than in thanks to long practices and even longer games and this, in turn, means that, thanks to his workload, he's reduced to having to hear about him second hand, as though he's just another of Suzanne's extended network of friends. 

He weathers it for as long as he can and then, muttering silent apology to Eric in advance, he goes looking for the boy's vlog. 

It's full to the brim with baking tips, with so much of Suzanne's warm positivity it's almost uncanny and yet, even then, the boy, no, the **man** on the screen in front of him is very much a stranger to him. 

So he watches, deliberately starts taking his breaks in his office rather than in the staff room so that he can use the computer there and stop risking the use of the family laptop, learns all that there is to learn about Eric Bittle Jr. 

Suzanne finds him out pretty quickly once Eric's settled out at Samwell because, for the first in a very long time, their boy's too busy to even talk to his mama and that means that, suddenly, he knows more about what's going on in their Eric's life than she does and that's basically dead give away. 

She's not disappointed, the logic behind searching the Vlog out in the first place, along with how he's excused keeping up with watching despite Eric not knowing he's doing as such, are things she understands even if she doesn't agree with them. 

Instead she pats him gently on the shoulder and, smile sad, simply responds with, "I hope you realise what you've let yourself in for sweetheart."

When Eric comes home over summer he gets a little of what she'd been pushing at, he can't talk to his boy about Samwell or the team without exposing that he's been watching the Vlog and admitting that so long after the fact feels a great deal more as admitting he'd been spying on his boy than he'd hoped it might. 

So he makes clumsy small talk and talks hockey instead, all the while very aware that Eric's going to think the interest is because suddenly he's doing something 'manly' more than because he understands that, for now, the sport is making his boy happy.

Still once he's gone, once he's again listening to the snippets of his life filtered through Suzanne, he finds himself drifting back to the Vlog. Tells himself, once more, that Eric has never explicitly told them not to watch and swallows down the counter argument that they've also never had permission to watch either, that there's clear assumption Eric's every action while he'd been home that they're not watching. 

Then he's forced to watch his boy's heart break in on itself and know that he's powerless to help, that Eric thinks him ignorant not only to the situation in hand but also his sexuality in general. 

Suzanne only has to see his face to know and Lord bless her sweetness, because she doesn't crow about it or give him the lecture he knows he's deserved since she found him out, but simply holds him until a little of the ache of it all drifts out of him.

He stops watching then and, bless her heart, Suzanne does what she can to make it easier, starts putting Eric onto speaker phone so that he can at least hear his boy's voice even if he's not actively part of their chatter and making point to linger more on the smaller details of everything when she's recounting conversations he misses out on.

It doesn't answer the main question he's been left with after stepping away from the Vlog, some of Eric's closest friends will be leaving Samwell at the end of the year, after all and that, apparently, his boy is a little less himself than usual can so easily be written off as that rather than the sting of a broken heart.

So he counts the days until he can see Eric again, promises himself this time that he'll tell his boy everything, that he'll risk a little anger for the hope of making his boy see that he's in his corner. 

That, no matter how it has seemed, he's always been in his corner. 

About a week prior to his boy's return he makes sure to let the school know that he'll be taking a half day, makes sheet after sheet of precise game plans for Patrick to run with the team in his absence and makes Suzanne promise to text him the moment Eric's in the car with her so that he can be home before they get in, ready and waiting with coffee, a smile and a slice of Eric's favourite pie.

He's woken on the day itself by a call to let him know that his star quarterback had been involved in a car crash the night previous, thankfully neither he or his folks were in any sort of instant danger but the kids been twisted enough that he's gonna be out of action for the foreseeable future. It can't be helped, of course, the kid needs time to heal, after all, but it puts instant pay to the idea of getting off early which means that, yet again, works having to come before Eric and that's more than a little frustrating. 

Suzanne, bless her heart, still lets him know that they're home, that she'd explained what'd happened on the drive home and that Eric had seemed pleased to hear he'd tried to be there even if it didn't work out.

"You don't sound so awfully sure, sweetness." 

A huff of frustrated air then, "He's nodding at the right places but I'm not convinced anything's actually going in." 

"Something on his mind?"

"You could say that." The last he'd heard this particular tone of tease from her she'd been fixing to tell him that she was expecting, dropping subtle hints to see if she could get him guessing without saying the words outright and, smiling for the memory, he enquires, 

"What are you up to sweetness?" 

"I'm testing a theory." 

"Mm, what theory would that be?" 

"Now that'd be telling, though you'll be needing to find out the spare mattress from that black hole you claim is a garage by the forth," 

He knows from experience that asking anything else is just going to net more teasing and that she'll be sad if she somehow spoils whatever she's planning by offering one hint too many and so he huffs out his own frustration and responds, 

"Remind me once I get in and I'll find it out then." 

"Mm, I'll be making mama's hen pie for supper so don't get yourself too lost under paperwork, dearheart, you know it's never quite the same re-heated." 

Once he's properly home for the break he sees for himself how distracted Eric is, sees the flush that spikes on his cheeks what seems every time he checks his phone and how he's cutting every meal time short so that he can retreat to his room to Skype his teammates.

It means that there never seems a good time to catch his boy and, though it's tempting to just spout the words Eric's retreating back and have done with it, he knows how badly that'd end out.

So he keeps mum and keeps patient all in the certainty that after whatever happens on the forth happens Eric should stop being so distracted which, in turn, means he'll listen properly to what he has to say.

On the night of the third Eric is so clearly wound that he negotiates away his extra few hours in bed in payment for the boy promising to take one of the stronger sleeping pills stashed far in the back of the bathroom cabinet. 

 

Which is how he ends out all but crashing into one of the NHL's newest (and if one believed the hype, biggest) signings with an arm full of soft produce and one of the super sweet late from their cafe that he knows Eric adores clutched tight in the other hand. 

He watches _the_ Jack Zimmerman use reflexes better suited to ensuring that pucks end up in the opposing teams net in order to keep said late in its cup and all the little loose ends click into place.

It's only that the, poor, poor boy seems so genuinely apologetic for something that's so clearly just poor timing that keeps his face straight. Holding it as Suzanne chides **Jack Zimmerman** for making his own way over from the airport rather than phoning like he'd promised and then sends him to deliver the coffee, is much harder and, once he's alone with his wife, everything gives completely pure mirth and a statement of,

"You are the worst, Suzanne Bittle." 

She tries for innocent shock, her own laughter getting in the way as she remarks,

"Nothin's certain just yet."

"He dived for that late as though it was precious gold, sweetness, I'm pretty certain you're right on the money."

A brief flash of pure glee before a serious cast comes as she states,"Don't tell him yet, Eric," her face smoothing out an apologetic look as she adds, "I know it's selfish for me to ask, that you're desperate to let Dicky know you're in his corner, but he's going to have to hide anyway, for the sake of Jack's career and I'm thinking it'll be easier if he thinks no one knows, that he always has to watch what he's saying and what he's doing."

"You're right, of course, darlin' and if keeping my mouth a little longer is what I have to do to help Junior then it's what I'll do." He smiles because she's still frowning, closes a little the distance between them as he adds a fond annoyance, "that boy of ours never makes life easy for himself, does he?"

"Of course not, he's got his daddy's love for a challenge, after all," a soft kiss then, making again distance, she cups a hand about her mouth and bellows, "DICKY, DO YOU WANT ME TO MAKE YOU AND JACK PANCAKES OR ARE YOU GOING TO SORT YOURSELF OUT???!?" 

A significantly long moment of silence and then Eric's yelling back, "YOU AND COACH GO AHEAD AND EAT, I'LL COME MAKE SOMETHING IN A MINUET!" 

Which, of course, has both he and Suzanne crumpled once more into laughter. 

Keeping silent wasn't going to be easy if the boys were going to keep being so obvious in their hiding but he'd certainly give it a go.

He's got his boys back no matter what, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So. This was a thing. I had thought about Coach meeting up with Dwane Johnson (like The Rock because it's amusing and also serves as flag for the role he'd play as Coach's emotional rock) Johnson's grandpa who'd co-incidentally just retired to Madison and having him provide the Bitty info but a) I'm still not sure where the line between being meta and just legit breaking the 4th wall is and b) it ended out bringing the flow of everything to a screeching holt so here we are. 
> 
> Anyway so Coach and Suzzanne legit know everything for sure, as do the entirety of the Haus and somehow at some point everyone's going to realise everyone else knows and they'll have long Skype talks about how obvious the boys are being and how super insulting it is that they think they're actually being good secret keepers. 
> 
> I picture the comming out reaction being really OTT shock and just reading fake enough that Bitty would be all "how long have you known" and wanting to go die in a hole when the response is "since day one, basically"


End file.
